When I'm With You
by ThoseWhoWander98
Summary: When I'm with you, I'll make every second count years from now, when I'm with you.


_Saw you walk into the room_

_Thought I'd try and talk to you_

_Babe, am I ever glad you wanted me too_

There she was, about as far away as it was possible to be. Harry, Ron and Hermione had just returned to the Common Room, having grown tired and weak in the aftermath of what must have been nearly forty-eight hours without sleep. Harry paid little attention to Ron and Hermione whispering in the corner. His eyes were glued on the brown ones of a fiery-haired girl across the room.

Harry was about to call out to Ginny when she stood and walked across the room and perched herself in the armchair beside Harry's. "I thought you might come up here," she said quietly. "Tired of everything?" Harry nodded, and his brain chose that exact moment to make him yawn with fatigue. Ginny laughed, and suddenly Harry didn't mind so much.

"I'm so glad it's over," Harry said seriously, taking her thin fingers in his. The scratches and dirt and blood, Harry decided, didn't dim her beauty one iota. Ginny smiled.

"Of course. You're free now. You can live again. It's gonna be great," she said, with a halfhearted laugh.

Harry realized, with a start, the date. It was May 2nd... one year to the day... he grinned.

"What?" Ginny asked, her head cocked curiously.

"It's May 2nd," Harry replied, offering no explanation. Knowing Ginny, she would remember.

_It's been two years to the day_

_Half the time I've been away_

_I know I'm not there enough_

_But that's gonna change_

Ginny squeezed his hand. "Happy Anniversary, then, Harry." He heard a thickness in her voice that he knew Ginny was trying to conceal. She rarely succumbed to tears, but that did not prevent her from trying to hide any sign of weakness.

He didn't know what to say for a minute. He knew she was scared, though, scared he wouldn't want her back after nearly a year apart. Scared he'd have met somebody new. Harry understood her fear, but was also hurt that she'd have thought his loyalty had broken.

"The first of many," he ventured.

"Oh, _Harry_," She was hugging him tightly, her head on his shoulder and her hands around his back, clenched in fists. He breathed deep, taking in the scent of her flowery hair. The fire had been rekindled in the half-destroyed fireplace. It was nice, but Harry didn't feel it.

After a long while, Harry said, "You'd better get back to your family. Ron and Hermione have already gone."

"You come too," she told him, standing. "They're your family, too." She looked away, and Harry knew that she had thought of Fred and lost the battle against tears. He put his hand on her shoulder. Harry had been shocked so much by Fred's death that he hadn't been able to feel anything, but now there was a terrible void in his stomach—a void that was also missing Lupin, Tonks, and Dumbledore. Hedwig, his mum and dad, Sirius, Mad-Eye: nearly everyone who had ever guided him. He could think of only a few left—his best friends, Ginny, and Mrs and Mr Weasley.

_When I'm with you_

_I'll make every second count_

_Cause I miss you_

_Whenever you're not around_

_When I kiss you I still get butterflies years from now_

_I'll make every second count when I'm with you_

The antechamber off the great hall held all the Weasleys. Ginny rushed forward, and Harry hung back, slightly protectively, behind her, his hand hovering above her head, his mind debating whether or not to stroke her hair. In the end he settled on letting her mourn. After all, he thought, if it was this bad for him, he couldn't imagine how awful is was for Ginny to lose a brother—or, even worse, for George to lose a twin.

After a long time, Ginny stood and backed up into Harry's arms. "You okay?" he muttered.

It was a long time before Ginny shook her head. "I understand," Harry told her. He did not know if this would help at all.

Apparently it did. "I know you do," said Ginny, wiping her cheeks. "You probably understand way more than I do."

Harry was touched that she mentioned that. "Do you want to stay, or..?" he left the question hanging. She gestured to a table at which sat Hermione, having left Ron with his family, Neville, Luna, and a Hufflepuff Harry recognized as Hannah Abbot.

"Over there," Ginny said. Harry nodded.

It seemed like a very short walk to the table (Ravenclaw, by the looks of it), even though it was across the hall. Harry felt Ginny rubbing small circles on the back of his hand as she held it. He wished he knew exactly what to say to make her feel better, and then decided that it was only the presence of somebody who got it, who really understood, that mattered.

_Yeah, we've had our ups and downs_

_But we've always worked it out_

_Babe, am I ever glad we got this far now_

_Still I'm lying here tonight wishing I was by your side_

_Cause when I'm not there enough, nothing feels right. _

_So I'm coming back to show you that I'll love you the rest of my life_

The conversation at the table had to unmistakable quality of the talk between people who were miraculously happy while at the same time being impossibly mournful. The small talk was animated and varied from everyday topics to the shaky subject of the war and of those they had lost. Harry noticed that as Ginny talked about Fred, her eyes seemed a little bit brighter.

"I can't believe it's all over," Hermione was saying. "I mean, it's like our whole lives have really been leading up to this moment, and, I mean... who really made plans after this, you know?"

"Yeah," Neville said dreamily. "It's weird, but good weird. Definitely good weird."

There was a short silence before Harry burst out, "But we're free now. We can do whatever we like."

_Free._ The word rung through his mind like a gong. He'd never made plans for after Voldemort—in fact, Harry realized, he'd never really believed that he'd live through it. He was still amazed that he had.

Some parts of the war—seeing the dead, his parents talking to him, watching Fred die, telling Ginny to hide—were in acute, perfect detail, whereas other parts—the actual fighting, for instance—were impossibly blurred in his mind. He wondered if he was simply tired or if this was how it was all the time.

Harry's body was exhausted but his mind was buzzing now. His mind kept wandering away from the conversation of Voldemort and towards the redheaded girl beside him. He decided that the moment was perfect.

_Whatever it takes, I'm not gonna break the promise I made_

_When I'm with you, I'll make every second count _

_Cause I miss you whenever you're not around_

_When I kiss you I still get butterflies, years from now_

_I'll make every second count when I'm with you_


End file.
